


blurred lines

by silverkatana



Category: SECHSKIES (Band)
Genre: Confessions, Late Night Calls, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 02:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16588655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverkatana/pseuds/silverkatana
Summary: because they were never meant to be anything more.





	blurred lines

  
  


Jaijin wonders when it all started.

 

He finds it difficult to pinpoint a certain time, a certain event that caused all for this to happen; but nowadays he finds himself unable to fully look Jiwon in the eye, unable to speak as carefreely as he did before, unable to type a message without hesitating halfway through a paragraph.

 

He wonders when it occurred to him - was it the way Jiwon grinned at him and he felt his skin heat up, or was it the way his eyes darted to the ground against his will when they met Jiwon’s, or was it the way their faces were so close lying together during the Weekly Idol shoot that he pondered for the slightest of moments what would happen if he leaned down and kissed Jiwon right there in front of all the cameras?

 

Some way and somehow, at some time unbeknownst to him, the lines began to blur in his mind.

 

It terrifies him.

 

He lets out a slow breath as he grabs his phone in an attempt to banish thoughts of Jiwon still lingering in his mind - it’s been a while since they’ve met, not ever since Sechskies’ last activity, and back then he thought it would be sufficient time to forget about his feelings but apparently his heart doesn’t quite agree with him.

 

_ We were never meant to be something more. _

 

A shaky exhalation makes its way from his mouth; he stares down blankly at his phone screen, opening up every application and scrolling through pictures and words that are about everything but Eun Jiwon. At some point, he starts looking through so many irrelevant articles he’s seriously considering whether to redecorate his house to resemble those interior design pictures he’s seen, or whether he should begin a new artpiece, or whether he should clean up his room and throw out some old clothes -

 

Ultimately, it’s always Eun Jiwon.

 

He thinks about interior design, about clearing up some of his old and no longer used things, of picking up the paintbrush, of Jiwon, of Jiwon, of Jiwon.

 

Of when they started, of skin against skin, of teeth grazing lips and tongues tying together and whispered words woven from unsteady breaths, of clothes tugged at then ripped apart and discarded on hard wooden floors, of fingers roaming places untouched and leaving little butterfly traces, of nights growing longer together, and of days spent brushing past one another just enough to drive one another insane.

 

Of when they continued, of knocking on doors at two in the morning, of rushed “I miss you”s at half past twelve with breaths smelling of cigarette smoke and alcohol, of slurred names that may or may not be theirs, of nights filled with the feeling of skin of skin, of words dripping with saccharine lust, and of days filled with leaving first thing in the morning, of days spent covering up red marks left along skin on their necks, of days rushing out the door shouting over their shoulders to please not tell anyone.

 

Of when they came to an end, of standing in front of the door at seven forty-five in the morning shirt still half unbuttoned and pants crumpled from being on the floor and lips still swollen red, of turning aways of the head and reaching up to cover the marks adorning pale skin, of grasping the door handle for the last time, of  _ I’m sorry but let’s not do this anymore,  _ of leaving and never looking back.

 

_ I thought we ended then, that day. _

 

Jaijin lets another sigh flutter from his throat, collapsing into his bed and choosing to gaze up at the dull ceiling instead. 

 

_ Then why do I still think of you? _

 

On the day that everything came to an end, neither of them cried. Neither of them had to swallow back their feelings, neither of them had felt the need to call out, to say the word “stay”.

 

That day, the parting was simple.

 

One stayed, and one left.

 

Just like the end to a chapter midway through a book, and flipping the page to a fresh new chapter - no emotions involved, just another moving on, just another continuation of the story.

 

That was their deal in the first place, after all.

 

The first time their lips met, all fervour and fever in the black of the night, the first time their fingers trailed down exposed skin and along places never touched before, the first time each others’ names left their mouths in cries, that was their sole promise to each other.

 

No feelings were to be involved.

 

It was always like that.

 

From the beginning, up to the very end.

 

Jaijin closes his eyes, wondering if it would help to fall asleep and drown away all his thoughts; when he wakes up, will he still think of Jiwon? If he can just succumb to his exhaustion and let go of his thoughts, will he forget it all?

 

_ Why do I feel so sad when I think of you, then, if there were never any feelings involved in the first place? _

 

_ Please, can’t I just lie here and forget everything that ever happened between the two of us? _

  
  
  


When Jaijin wakes up at one in the morning, the first thing he thinks of is Eun Jiwon.

 

“Fuck,” is all he can say aloud, to no one in particular, staring at the time on his phone reflected back at him too brightly in the dark of his room, “I think I have feelings for you.”

 

That’s terrifying.

 

Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping well lately, or perhaps it’s one am and he’s lost his mind, or perhaps the day Jiwon left he took both Jaijin’s heart and sanity along with him.

 

But at one in the morning, Jaijin finds himself voice calling Jiwon.

 

He sets it on speaker and places the phone beside him, and in the seconds of silence before the phone’s ringing fills the room he finds himself wondering whether he’s truly lost it.

 

The phone rings, and rings, and rings some more, and for a moment Jaijin thinks that Jiwon isn’t going to pick up, and honestly he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

 

And then the ringing stops, and Jiwon’s voice is what fills his room, and Jaijin’s heart hangs in his chest and forgets how to beat.

 

“What do you want?” Jiwon sounds mad, or just tired, or irritated, he can’t tell. “I got off my game just for this.”

 

Irritated it is.

 

He pauses, and it’s a little too late that he realises he has no idea what to say to Jiwon. He tries to formulate neat sentences in his mind, tries to phrase everything as perfectly as he can.

 

“What do you want?” Jiwon half-yells at him.

 

He forgets how to think.

 

“Was that really the end?” he blurts out. 

 

There’s dead silence on the other end, and he’s almost convinced that Jiwon is going to hang up on him and get back to his game.

 

Maybe it’ll be easier like that - maybe that way he’ll have to accept that the end has come and passed and that his heart has to seek solace in someplace else, somewhere where Eun Jiwon doesn’t come by.

 

“Do you miss me?” Jiwon asks him suddenly, a mixture between a sigh and a demand, “You know we stopped because I didn’t want it to interfere with our group activities. I’m assuming you called because our promotions are all over - if you want me to come over just say so. I have to go by morning though.”

 

“It’s not that.” 

 

Silence follows yet again, and once it’s clear that Jaijin doesn’t know what else to say Jiwon emits a frustrated groan and mutters, “Then what do you want?”

 

“It’s just - ugh - I don’t know - damn it, I can’t think, I can’t speak.” Jaijin feels the need to punch something right now, most favourably himself, because now his mind has gone completely blank and he can barely come up with comprehensible sentences and  _ god he should never have called Jiwon. _

 

“Just spit it out,” Jiwon urges him.

 

_ But - _

 

“I think I love you.”

 

_ Ah. _

 

_ That’s not the way I was planning to phrase it. _

 

“So you’re telling me you want something more than what we’ve been doing, is that it?” Jiwon asks him, and he almost flinches physically because every single one of his feelings has just been summed up too clearly. “We’ve been fucking for years now and you want us to be more than that?”

 

_ Yes. _

 

_ Of course I do. _

 

_ Took me this long to realise but I fucking love you oh my god. _

 

“No,” he says into the phone, staring out of his window where it’s all dark except for the occasional yellow-white of the headlights of passing cars. “I just wanted to tell you that.”

 

“And what the hell do you want me to do with this information if that’s not what you mean?” Jiwon retorts, “Do you just want me to tell you ‘okay, Jaijin’ and go back to my game as though nothing happened?”

 

“Yes,” he responds immediately, and he can hear Jiwon’s exasperated murmur filter through the call, “That’s what I want. I’m not asking us to move into something more, because that’s not what you want.”

 

Jiwon goes quiet for a long time - so long, in fact, that Jaijin has to divert his gaze from the window back to his phone to make sure the call is still connected. “Is that what you want?” he asks finally.

 

“Does it matter?” he mutters, running a hand through his hair and exhaling tiredly - apparently conversations like these have the ability to drain him more than hours at the gym can, “Because if two people don’t have the same feelings it can’t work anyway.”

 

Jiwon’s next response comes so swiftly it’s almost as though his words escape his mouth before he can even think, “How do you know I don’t want that?”

 

“You’re the one who said that we shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Jaijin’s finger hovers over the red disconnect button, his eyelids heavy and his mind running too fast for him to catch any of his own thoughts, “Goodnight, hyung. Sorry for disturbing you. You can go back to your game now.”

 

“Ah, you fucking idiot, Lee Jaijin!” Jiwon yells at him so loudly he jerks back and stabs his fingers on his bedsheets instead of the phone screen. “I didn’t say that, alright? I said we should end it because as a group, we - ah, I can’t phrase this, it shouldn’t get in the way-”

 

“Exactly,” he interrupts, “A relationship would get in the way. So please forget about this conversation. Goodnight, hyung.”

 

“That’s not what I’m fucking saying!” Jiwon screams at him, the volume of his voice probably enough to wake enough Charles in the living room, “I - ugh, I’m bad with words, okay? - I meant, I…”

 

“Just tell me no,” Jaijin cuts him off again, knowing that the next time he sees Jiwon he might have to run for his life, but now his mind is getting tired and his heart is getting heavy and he doesn’t feel the need to stick around to hear Jiwon trying to think of nice ways to reject him.

 

“I said let’s end this because I was fucking falling in love with you and I was terrified that you wouldn’t feel the same and it fucking hurt me and I didn’t want to spend nights with you knowing that it was love to me and lust to you and I was a coward using the group as an excuse because I was scared you’d hate me if I told you about my real feelings and fucking hell, Lee Jaijin, I need you in my life.”

 

Jiwon stops abruptly, his unsteady breaths coming in shaky wisps of barely-audible sound.

 

Jaijin closes his eyes.

 

A long mess of words, not quite thought through, rambled so quickly that he wasn’t quite sure whether Jiwon was reciting a new rap or actually confessing his feelings.

 

But he heard every syllable clearer than the sun’s rays on morning dew.

 

“Jaijin-ah, reply to me.”

 

“Hyung,” he speaks, this time with a smile playing on his features, “Can I go to you?”

 

“Of course you can.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> anyway if you've made it this far thank you for reading my first jionjin fic!! leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed it please ♡


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